In the depths of our despair,
Where shadows linger and hope seems rare,
God whispers to our weary souls,
“Rise, my child, and be made whole.”
Lifeless bones, broken and dry,
Yet His breath can make them fly,
For in the valley, His grace abounds,
Where restoration and healing resound.
Prophesy life, declare the truth,
Speak hope into the darkest booth,
For our words hold power divine,
A symphony of redemption, a sacred sign.
The Spirit moves, a gentle breeze,
Reviving hearts, setting captives free,
Just as He breathed life into dust,
He resurrects our faith, our trust.
In our own valleys, we find His grace,
A refuge, a shelter, a sacred space,
Trust His power, surrender the fight,
Watch transformation bloom in His light.
So let us rise, with courage anew,
Embrace the dawn, His mercies true,
In the valleys, His love unfolds,
Restoration, revival—stories untold.
